


A Taste For It

by BloodSugarDaddy



Category: Silent Hill (Video Game Series)
Genre: Bad Ending, Body Horror, Face-Fucking, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Multi, Murder, Other, Reader-Insert, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Stalking, Tentacle Dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 02:54:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12902418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodSugarDaddy/pseuds/BloodSugarDaddy
Summary: --One-shot Reader x Pyramid Head fic for my wonderful friend Meej!Gender neutral Reader is caught in Silent Hill's wicked grasp, and made to remember the sins they've committed. When they encounter Pyramid Head, he's either their savior... or he's their punishment.





	A Taste For It

The darkness was throttling you.  
Ever since you’d awoken here, in this place of smog and heat, you could hardly breathe. Your nails chipped as you dragged yourself through the ash and mud away from the wreckage of your flipped car, and your lungs burned against the weight of a bruised and heavy chest. 

For a while, you had just opted to lie there in the street, watching the streetlamp above flicker weakly overheard, offering minimal comfort in this strange and dark place. 

When the sharpness faded into dull ache, you gathered your body and your courage and sat up to take stock of where you’d ended up. A city, it seemed like...or a town? There was a welcome sign on the road some distance away, but you couldn’t make it out through the flurry of falling snow- no, ash. Hot ash, catching on your eyelashes and in your hair..and wherever you set your hand down to brace your weight, you left behind black prints and stained your palms. 

\--  
He wouldn’t stop following you!  
\--

You blink, shaking away the echo of a memory threatening to emerge through the dizzy haze of…. Probably a concussion. Cool. Put that concern on the back burner for the moment and rise from the deep inches of gathered ashes. No use just sitting here by your car anyway. 

\--  
You told him you didn’t want to marry him. You told him to go away and he just kept on pressing! What choice did you have, but to run? Everywhere you ran there he was, watching you fall asleep from the corner of your bedroom.. Brushing your hair with coarse fingers as he haunted your dreams. Run further, run faster, but he’d always boldly follow, and his impatience was growing dangerous.  
\--

Another memory?  
You shook it off as quickly as the first and started to stumble along the silent road. Buildings towered up around you, a city you thought looked a little like New York maybe, with its towering skyscrapers and nigh endless panels of concrete and glass. This was no New York though, the glass was shattered, the windows dark, the walls stained and cracked and not a single person wandered the dessicated alleys. 

Something shifted behind you, a footfall maybe.. The shifting, wayward slump of something thick and heavy falling onto the ash. 

You turn sharply- too sharply, your neck protested- but found nothing. Nothing behind, nothing before..

Warily, you opt to keep moving, but walk a little faster all the same. 

Screaming started, an alarm wailing in your head and then reverberating off the solemn skyscrapers. You had heard it before, a storm siren that slowly wound itself up to a bellow and then tapered off once more..over and over again. Last time it had roared, you’d cowered in your closet with the monsters until the unpredictable lightning had stopped stretching its pale electric fingers through your bedroom curtains and the lights came back on. This time, the sirens screamed and the world recoiled as you had as a child, a visceral withdrawal into plunging darkness as terror scraped cold teeth down your spine. 

There came the sound again over the sirens, like the sigh of leather gloves sliding on over skin. Leather gloves ready to snatch across your mouth and hold it shut… and you did what you did the last time too- you ran. 

Ran from the stalker you hadn’t been able to shake for years. Ran from the memory of his bodily devastation when you-!

Mercifully, the ground opened up beneath you right at that second. The concrete ripped open and yawned a maw of blackness and fire, and your stomach made a mad dash for your mouth as your foot came down on air where a second ago there had been road. 

You plunged a relatively short distance and landed hard on sharp metal grating. The kind of steel flooring you remember on the stairs outside of your apartment, full of evenly spaced holes lined by sharp edges. You’d fallen on it before and it had sliced your knees and palms, but you’d been so driven to escape that you hadn’t even noticed the pain. 

You noticed it now though. You noticed it before the impact knocked the wind out of you and the world spun, and the metal biting into your arms was the only sensation capable of jarring you back to painful reality.

Or was this reality? You weren’t sure anymore, but you WERE sure you could feel Him following you again, leering down from the rim of the hole above...watching you writhe. Unwilling to look up, not daring even to glance, your scramble to your feet and run along the metal catwalk, suspended over an unending void of blackness and raging heat. 

You whip around a tight corner and almost fall down the stairs, but manage to catch yourself this time and fly down them two at once. When you hit the bottom, you land in a hallway bathed in shadow. Above you, a massive fan begins to slowly rotate, and each time its blades shift in gradually quickening circles, a red light briefly illuminates the corridor. 

You hear them before the light catches them enough to reveal them. The wet drip and sucking moans of the people fused into the metal walls and floor. They’d fallen too.. Fallen and melted where they’d lain, twisting bodies with frantically searching eyes oozing back into crackled black sockets, mouths gaping unnaturally as they distorted along slowly disintegrating jaws. Like partially melted candles unable to escape a burning wick, and you swallowed bile as you tried to navigate across the sparse bits of floor that weren’t covered in melting human. 

They grope at you as you pass, fingers peeling from trembling bones and leaving red, meaty streaks across your clothes and skin. The ones on the ceiling try to grab out for your face, often catching their broken nails in your hair.. And you want to stop, or run faster, or slap at them but you can’t because He’s still behind you. 

You chance a glance back, and when the red light flashes into the hallway behind you see Him..the outline of Him, a dark silhouette standing at the mouth of the bridge you’d just left, unseen eyes boring into your bones. 

You break and run, losing a chunk of hair to the imploring grasp of a melted victim in the process. 

The hallways flash.  
Red light, darkness, red light, darkness, and every time you can see you wish you couldn’t and every time you can’t you wish you could. There’s no winning here.. When the shadows come they rob you of your ability to navigate, disorienting the space and warping the walls in your struggling vision, and when the light is on you see only the faces of the desperately, hopelessly damned. 

The light turns off, obscured by the fan- and stays that way.  
You come to an abrupt stop, unable to see even an inch ahead of your face and feeling only the tightness of the walls to either side of you. 

Something else is breathing in the dark. Slowly, languidly, its deep breathing is even and content compared to your ragged, wet panting. You strain, trying to see anything, sense anything, acutely aware that you are vulnerable and Not Alone. 

His breath tickles the back of your neck. 

You run, picking a direction almost entirely at random, the only criteria of your destination of course being ‘not fucking here’. 

\--  
What have you done?  
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!  
\--  
Your forward momentum is roughly halted as you slam face first right up against something hollow and flat.  
Yup, that’ll do wonders for the head injury...and the now bitten tongue already swelling in your mouth. 

Deciding that the new flash of hot pain was of lower priority than escaping, you fumble your hands across the cold metal until you find- a handle! Thank fuck for that! You twist it without worrying about what might be on the other side and throw yourself through, slamming the heavy iron shut with your back and bracing your feet. 

Just in time- He Slams up against the other side so hard it almost dislodges you, and He pounds on the door with shuddering force that vibrates right into your teeth. The pressure is insane, and you dig in your heels and grab the metal bars on either side of the frame- meant for barring maybe- and hold on for dear life. 

Again He strikes it. Again, Again, Again…

Then silence, broken only by your own heaving breath and the faint clinking of chains. 

With nothing else to listen to and the adrenaline of the chase beginning to cautiously ebb, you lift your head and look for the source of the new potentially horrible thing. You’re right to suspect, as it is in fact...a new horrible thing. 

Women. Strung up high on razor wire chains from the ceiling, their bonds singing against each other like macabre windchimes. They dance, slowly and without purpose, blissfully unaware of how their skin stretched and tore with every shift and graceful arch. As you stared, the pressure gave out on one opposite to you, her flesh ripping away and the chains stripping her to the bone on ribs and face and breast as her weight and momentum carried her down through the nest of bondage.  
She hit the ground hard and with a wet crunch not far from you, body broken and slightly flat on one side and fingers still twitching. 

You gasp and turn away too late, and start to run for the second door you just noticed at the other end of the room. Around you, the women start to fall everywhere...some of them barely missing you on their way to the ground. Blood and cruor splash against your body even when you do manage to avoid them, and you are consumed by the sound of their popping bones and breaking skin and the twinkling of dripping chains. 

He’s there too, you can feel him in the room somewhere, watching you struggle and lighting the flames of deep rooted horror and revulsion in your belly. You snatch open the next door, find a blissfully empty hallway and cross the distance to another one.. This one made of heavy wood so thick it's harder to open than the thin metal ones from before. All the same, you haul it open and run face first into someone’s back.

You bounce off and fall onto your butt, left sitting and staring up at the towering thing you’d collided with as it began to turn and face you. 

Tall… incredibly tall.. His body mostly humanoid and all corded muscle carved in iron hard valleys and planes beneath scarred and bloodstained skin. He wears a suspiciously fleshy looking apron, tied crudely and doing little to resemble the helpfulness of an actual apron at all, but considering the size of the massive and rusted javelin he drags at his side, you opt not to point that out. 

Almost more convincing than his weapon is his head. Resting on his broad shoulders is a metal contraption, mostly flat at the back with tubes connecting it to his upper shoulder blades, and coming to a sharp point in front of him. 

He stands eerily still, in no particular hurry, and you can feel him studying you through whatever eyes might be hidden under all that twisted metal. Each of his breaths fills his chest and then rolls inside of the pyramid with all the rumble of a distant brontide, neither urgent nor concerned at the small human that just so gracelessly ran into his person. 

“Hi?” You asked breathlessly, unable to think of anything more intelligent to spit out.. But the effort went to waste, as the muscular creature either ignored your greeting or else had no interest in returning it. 

The door into the hall opened and you craned your neck back so fast you may have popped a vertebrae, and there He was. Your stalker, your lover, the man you told No and who chased you anyway, all the way to the ends of his earth. A hot ball of fear coiled in your throat, robbing your limbs of strength and it was all you could do just to spin around and push yourself across the slick floor and into the shins of the Monster. Stalker or Monster? Kind of the same bag, weren’t they? Yet you had history with the Stalker, you knew what he could do, you knew how tenacious he was..the Monster was a mystery. In this case, better the Devil you didn’t know. 

All at once the monster moved, a statue suddenly come to life as he hefted the spear in one hand- a weapon of considerable size for anyone- and with grace and strength he threw it forward.  
The javelin impaled the shadow through its chest with enough force to propel it back through the door it had just come through a moment ago, launching it into the room with the Falling Dancers and out of sight, but you could hear His body crash somewhere onto the steel grating. 

Relief mixed with confusion, twisted up in a ball of uncertainty in your chest.. You open your mouth to ask a question- any question would do- but forget the attempt when a huge hand wraps around the back of your neck and lifts you bodily up from the floor. 

The Monster turns away from its impale victim and carried you deeper into the underground world of endless hallways and bridges. Your toes only barely skim the ground if you struggle, and though you pull at its fingers and wrist, you do nothing to dampen the vice grip of the beast, who carries you by the scruff like you weighed less than a pup. 

It all catches up to you in waves, like rolling blackouts stealing your consciousness in increasingly longer intervals. 

Eventually, although you can’t remember when, you pass out. 

\--

When you open your eyes again, you’re no longer moving, but have been dropped unceremoniously onto a large table. Around you, the room is circular and its walls as high as they are bloody, a panel of glass taking up a large portion near the ceiling. An operating theater, like the one belonging to the Doctor you’d run to for help. Like the one the Doctor had stabbed your Stalker in at your behest… 

The double doors open and the Beast enters.  
He’d apparently managed to retrieve his javelin, and now set it aside against the wall to let the gore drain from its blade into the nearby sink. He approaches you, so tall that the tip of the pyramid shaped metal trap on his head knocks the hanging light and sends it bouncing and swinging out of his way. If he notices, he doesn’t react, but you get the feeling stuff like that just doesn’t register to this creature. 

“Thank you.” You try to say, screwing up the courage to make a decent impression.. But you still shrink back when the Beast places his hands on either side of the table next to your knees and leans in closer. 

There he stays, unmoving, but you can hear his breath coming in stunted, rapid and harsh- like the curious sniffs of a hellhound. 

He seems familiar. 

Cold sweat tickles your neck, but you fight down the instinctual need to flee...you know in your heart that if you run, that spear would eagerly find another victim. This Beast hates the chase.. If you run, and make him follow, he’ll tear you asunder and scatter the pieces into the corners of this peculiar Hell. 

When he makes no move to withdraw or advance from there, you take your chances and reach up, running your fingers over the rough metal sides of its… face?.. And feeling the sharp curve of bolts and tubing. Curious now and gaining boldness when you aren’t immediately rebuked, you continue your tactile exploration, searching for some kind of seam or catch that would indicate that this strange trap is a helmet of some kind, or at least removeable. As you follow the natural guide of its angles to its underside, you find only a solitary gap before it fuses directly into the Beast’s neck, and pause there thoughtfully, wondering if there was some trick to this. 

Instead, something wet greets you in the hole, startling you into quickly withdrawing your hand. The tongue that follows is a long, red rope.. More tentacle than proper tongue at all in fact, dripping with sticky saliva as it coils down and wraps loosely around your wrist. 

Nope, not a helmet… or if it once was, it’s long since fully become this creature’s head. 

“Can you speak?” You dare, opening your fingers to let the tentacle curl between them inquisitively. 

You kind of wish you didn’t ask, because the answer is a gutteral sound.. A grating, keening roar like the shriek of a rusted gate being forced to swing open, and so loud it sets your teeth on edge. 

Okay, nope, don’t ask it to do that again. 

“What do you want with me?” You try, hoping for either something more articulate or for…. Well anything. You’re on edge, stuck between a rock and a hard place, uncertain as to this Monster’s intentions, “If you’re going to kill me...string me up like the others… just do it, but for fuck’s sake don’t make me keep sitting here talking to myself.”

Your flash of impatience is apparently taken to heart, as the Beast begins to rise, only to push a hand onto your chest and shove you easily back down onto the table. Your breath escaped you in a quick, surprised huff as the Beast’s other hand rips its nails through your clothes, leaving you open and exposed, and that fat tentacle lavs it’s hot drool down your stomach and along your inner thigh. 

Quickly catching on to its intention, you feel only gratitude.  
This, you can handle. This, sounds like a whole lot of horrifying fun and it’s a damn sight better than anything else you could think of running into down here. A hot monster wants some hanky panky in return for saving you from the Stalker? Well he deserved it.  
Didn’t seem like he was inviting your opinion on the matter anyway. 

That hand holding you down is at the base of your throat, and you wrap your fingers around his wrist as much as you can just for some kind of purchase or instinctive need to cling to what imprisons you. The rest of you is focused on that blistering hot tongue as it dips briefly into your navel and travels upwards again, sampling the taste of your skin and flicking across your nipples with greedy curiosity. It’s so hot that when it leaves your sensitive buds, you’re almost whimpering at the sudden swell of cooler air in its wake.. But you don’t have long to dwell on it. 

Evil, terrible, wonderful tentacle that it is, it’s moved on to other things. 

The Beast’s free hand pushes your knees apart, his palm gliding from calf to thigh to hip and assisting its partner in holding you still, right where he wants you. His tongue finds your sex and you gasp and arch futily as it rubs and circles and squeezes your parts.. Deliberately avoiding the sweet, stinging pleasure to be found at your center. You keen at him, hoping to circle your hips enough to make his tongue catch just the right place- but the prehensile muscle deftly avoids your attempts and slithers lower, making you forget all about the cruelty. 

When it pushes past your entrance, you aren’t ready for its strength or thickness. The tentacle shoves inch after inch inside and you scream and wriggle, only succeeding on impaling yourself further on the red hot tongue rearranging you from inside. The Beast pauses, considers, pulls out his tongue a short ways and then rams it in again, deeper still and knocking you breathless. You still can’t sit up or shift away under its big hands...all you can do is lie there and endure the savage pleasure of the tentacle worming its way through your insides, setting your nerves aflame with overwhelming lust. 

Then he retracts it. Right when you’re on the very edge, that tongue pulls away and leaves you hollow and gaping just a little, wet and dripping with its copious drool as it vanishes back up into its triangular head. 

You moan, fingers digging into his unyielding arm, unsure if you want more or if you want to escape and you still hadn’t quite figured it out by the time the Beast pressed his hips against yours and untied his apron. 

It fell somewhere out of sight, into an obscene pool on the floor… you didn’t miss it really, because it freed the monster’s massive cock to slap onto your stomach. Bigger than any tool a man would wield back in the real world.. Thick and tentacle like as his tongue had been but with far more weight, and clear pre cum dripped steadily from its tip to pool and run down across your belly. 

The Beast stepped back, and in one motion, flipped you over. Your chest pressed on the table, arms scrambling to try and pull your legs up from where they hung off the edge, but you lost your chance when that cinderblock hand came down onto its familiar place at the back of your neck. Pushed onto the smooth metal surface, face down, you couldn’t see him anymore but you could feel the heat of his body on your back as he leaned down, and you were hyper aware of his cock between your cheeks, rubbing lazily to the monster’s pleasure. 

Somewhere, the door opened again.  
Were you happy or disappointed with what you saw?  
Another Beast. Another muscular and tall creature, crowned in a pyramid shaped head.. Though this one differed in some respects in that barbed bone spurs grew from each vertebrae down its back, and the trap on its head was coppery red. 

“What the fuck..” You wondered, as the hand on your neck finally let up enough for you to readjust yourself. 

Neither replied; likely neither even could, but the newcomer tangled his strong fingers into your hair and forced your face against his hip and you got those answers anyway.  
The first Beast, still behind you, pushed his hands against your rear and spread you open, easing his path as he presses his cock against your hole. You squeal and kick at nothing, your muscles instinctively fighting against the intruder and forcing him to back off a moment… but when he presses again, harder and with a resonating snarl, your body had nowhere else to go and gave in, allowing that terribly, wonderfully thick member to split you wide open as it plunged in to its hilt. 

You scream, fingers straining on the table as the Beast’s hips settled against your thighs. You can feel his cock pulsing inside you, too deeply, too hot, and it coils and curls at its master’s silent willing. 

This, you quickly find out, is the least of your current worries. The Second Beast is less patient than the first, and when your mouth parts open to scream he wrenches your head forward and buries his own tentacle cock into your mouth. You cough, struggling as it works its way into and down your throat, and an awful pressure almost makes you black out as it builds and builds- then you swallow, and the tentacle shifts, and the pain finally melts away. 

You’re sure the tip has to be somewhere near your stomach. Your throat bulges as the Second Beast nestled your nose into his stomach, then pulls back to fuck your face in earnest. You steal breaths between each push, learning to relax your jaw as the heady scent and warmth buzzes through your body. The First Beast has started to move too, and every time he does he crushes your pleasure spots into the table and rubs them hard. 

Your eyes rolls and your toes curl, lost in pleasure as much as oxygen deprivation. You’re sure you’ve cum but you can hardly feel it over the ravaging spitroast the creatures are giving you, one of them thrusting down your throat so hard his cum and your drool drip ceaselessly down your chin, and the other fucking you so deep you can feel him in your belly slamming into the table. 

Back and forth, they time themselves with one another and you’re helplessly lost in between. You’re a toy for them, a convenient set of holes- had the First Beast saved you for this reason? Had it even known what the Stalker was to you, how He had tracked you down and threatened your life for years until you’d so sweetly bargained to have Him killed? Him, and others too after Him. You had a taste for it then.. Leading the arrogant and entitled back to the operating theater where you beautifully accommodating Doctor was waiting. What a pair the two of you had made, and you’d gotten away with it so easily… especially when the Doctor had hung himself from the ceiling fan. No one had been left to tell your secret. 

Now, you couldn’t even tell it.. Not with these two monsters pounding into you with ever heightening aggression. They pulled your hair, they bent you down and back, they dug their fingers into your shoulders and hips. You scratched your nails across the Second Beast’s thighs and left no marks at all, but they hammered into hard enough to shake your mind off its hinges and drown it in grateful lust. 

When they came, it was very suddenly. The First Beast led them off, a terrible and awful metallic howl rattling from inside its sharp head and knuckles blossoming bruises into your hips as he emptied himself into you. The Second one followed, echoing his companion with a shrieking hiss and burying his cock as far down your throat as he could. Hot seed poured into you from both ends, overfilling and overflowing until your stomach bulged with its weight and it burst out from around the tight seal of mouth and cock. 

You lost consciousness for… Maybe a few seconds, maybe a few minutes, maybe an hour?

When you woke back up, they were still fucking you. Maybe they’d never stopped even during orgasm. Your arms were limp on the table, all fight and resistance gone from your abused body. There wasn’t much use in fighting it even if you’d wanted you… and you most certainly no longer wanted to. 

These Beasts were fucking you to death, and all you could wish was that they’d pull their tentacle cocks out of your mouth long enough for you to thank them.

**Author's Note:**

> I got super duper carried away with this and now it's 8 am so I'm going to bed but...please enjoy what basically amounts to ten pages of pointless horror smut! <3 ilu guys


End file.
